The Briar Rose
by Eilean Donan
Summary: a sarcastic young prince is sent off to rescue the princess in the tower and has to contend with dragons and idiot knights


The Briar Rose

Hi. I'm Lucian, prince of the Far Isles, four days' sail west of Isken with a fair wind. I'm the youngest of three, and on a good day that's a good thing. On a bad day it means my two brothers are making a scapegoat of me.

Looking in the mirror, I'm pretty happy with what I see – got the usual Far Isles blonde hair, grey eyes, nice square jaw, and all that. I'm handy with a sword. Yeah, yeah, I know, all young men want to be the best with a sword, we think it impresses the ladies. I guess it does impress _some_ ladies, at that, ha ha.

So, I'm your average prince, and you're probably beginning to yawn and think "what an idiot," but, you see, I'm about to recount my very-far-from-average adventure I had only last year. Really, the fact I'm here to tell the tale marks me as a very un-average prince, actually. I could have failed in my mission and met the same fate as all the others, entwined for all eternity in the tangle of briars outside the castle walls.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'll start at the start, shall I ?

Two months after my 19th birthday, my father called me, along with my two brothers, into his study. Apparently, he had received a letter from the king of some land I'd only vaguely heard of in my studies. This letter, he said, contained news of a beautiful princess, asleep in a tower for longer than anyone could remember, and the countless young men, of high standing and low, who had tried, and failed, to free her from the curse she was under.

"What has this to do with us, father ?" asked my older brother, Tristan. He was five years older than me, and I admired and envied him. Blonde and arrogant, and devastatingly handsome, he had already broken half the hearts in the Far Isles, and I have to admit, some of those were _men_. That's how beautiful he was.

My father, however, had no patience for that, and glared at him, then turned the glare on the rest of us for good measure, just in case we felt left out. I squirmed. I had a sneaking suspicion I knew what this had to do with us, and sure enough, my mouth opened itself and words spilled out, even as my brain screamed at me to shut the hell up.

"One of us is to go and attempt to rescue her," said my treacherous gob, "and the reward is a great marriage, right ? Whoever marries her will be king of that land ?"

"Yes !" my father cried, delighted, "Clever boy ! And guess what ? I'll give you precisely two seconds to volunteer, or I will volunteer you."

"Ooh, me, me !" I squealed, the sarcasm of which was unfortunately totally and deliberately ignored by the sneaky old git.

"Thank you Lucien. Valour, unselfishness, and the willingness to help others are most commendable virtues which I am glad to see you have in plenty. You'll leave in a week."

So, the week flew by whilst I ran around the palace like a headless chicken, panicking and having hysterics. Packing for an adventure which is likely to end in death seems both of paramount importance, and totally pointless. I settled on loading up on weapons, and little else, but Tristan scoffed, and told me I would need a fantastic outfit for when I got through the killer briars to the princess. I thought armour would look good enough for a lazy girl who'd decided to sleep for 100 years whilst waiting for a strong gardener to get her out.

"Ha!" snorted Tristan, "she'll be looking for a handsome prince, not a hysterical boy in armour !"

"In that case, why don't _you_ go ?" I retorted.

"Because, little bro, I have a beautiful lady of my own to woo. Sheesh ! Besides, this is your big chance to do something with your life. You can't live on my charity forever, you know."

"Ah, I always knew you'd kick me out once you were king. Well lucky you, this way you won't have to. I'll be dead within five minutes of getting there. So long ! Nice knowing you ! Ciao ! Au rev…"

"There's no need for that !" he snapped irritably. "I didn't mean it like that. Anyway, you'll be fine, you always are."

Famous last words, those, I thought sourly, as I stood looking up at the mass of tangled briars that surrounded the damn princess's castle. Actually, it looked quite pretty, covered in dog roses at that time of the year, though the time of the year also meant that my armour was too hot. I considered taking it off and impaling myself on the thorns, thus ending the whole sorry farce sooner, but my princely nobility shone through, and I gritted my teeth, hefted my sword, and started forth.

I tell you, if I'd wanted to be a gardener, I could have done it in the Far Isles. Can people's arms fall off from chopping down briars ? I wondered if it _had_ been the evil briars that had killed the other knights – glimpses of whose remains I could see through the dense undergrowth – or simple exhaustion. I wondered which would get me first. My money was currently on exhaustion.

Halfway through, the dragon appeared.

"Oh, _bugger_," I said aloud. Had there been any mention of a dragon in the briefing – literally – I'd been given five minutes before I sailed ? I couldn't remember, being too busy panicking and having more hysterics. I racked my brains for a "defeat the dragon" master plan, and glumly decided I'd either have to play dice with it, or possibly a game of riddles, or just be exceptionally brave and brilliant and kill it with my trusty sword, which I could barely wield after all the rose bush pruning I'd been doing. I had no dice with me, I was rubbish at riddles, and as for the sword…….

"_Bring_ it," I muttered, flinging the offensive and now quite blunt piece of cutlery to the ground, and sitting down on a thick rose stump. Might as well get it over with. I was going to die anyway, no point in suffering from heat exhaustion first.

Two hours later, I was scanning the sky for signs of the pesky lizard, and finding none, when I heard a noise in the undergrowth, and a young man came crashing along, panting, and swearing profusely to himself. He stopped that once he saw me, at least he stopped for a brief and shocked moment, before continuing with the foul language, this time directed at me.

"Shut up," I said. Well, I'm a _prince_ ! I don't have to put up with such rudeness ! _I_ don't go around swearing ! My father would tan my hide, for a start.

He blinked and stared at me.

"Shut up ?!"

"Yes," I replied haughtily, "Your language is highly offensive to a prince of the Far Isles."

"Where ?"

"The Far Isles !"

"Never heard of them. Now, out of my way, I have a princess to rescue."

"Good. This means I can go home then ? I hope the lazy cow is worth it – oh by the way, look out for the dragon."

"Hah ! There's no dragon !" he scoffed. I looked him up and down, and curled my lip. He was wearing chain maille with a red-and-blue surcoat with a white heart – typical chevalier, I thought, out to win a name for himself with some great deed, like rescuing Mademoiselle from the tower up ahead.

"Yeah, there's no dragon," I agreed sarcastically, "I lied. Remember that when it eats you, Sir Popinjay."

"Here, how did you know my name ?!" he exclaimed. I gave him a funny look, and decided he was probably joking.

"Lucky guess," I said. "I'm Prince Lucien. Anyway, it's getting dark, and there's a princess to rescue – let me know how you get on won't you ?"

I settled down for the night, building myself a nice big fire with all the readily-available firewood, whilst Sir Knight crashed on through the twilight swinging his sword methodically with predictably huge muscles, never seeming to tire. I could hear the rhythmic echoes long after I'd lost sight of him. I trapped and roasted a rabbit for my dinner, thoroughly enjoying it, thinking that Sir Knight would be done by morning and we could all go home for our teas.

But there was no sign of him that morning, and none by the time evening rolled round again, and I began to get tired of waiting. I resolved to pack up and go home the next morning if he still wasn't back, but then my noble conscience started clamouring at me.

I sighed. If he wasn't back, I'd have to go after him, wouldn't I, being an honourable and unselfish – not to mention handsome - prince.

Guess what ? He wasn't back, curse him.

Grumbling, and after a hasty breakfast of cold roast bunny, I donned my armour again, and set off. At least Sir Idiot had cleared a nice path for me, so no pruning today, and I strolled along at a rather more leisurely pace than befitted a prince on an urgent mission, but still loathe to run headlong into any traps, such as the mouth of a dragon.

I reached the foot of the tower without so much as a glimpse of the pompous and overdressed Knight, and refused point black to dwell on that too much, realising that dragons eat men whole, leaving no trace. I looked up at the sheer stone walls, conveniently cracked, crumbling, and covered with rose vines and therefore footholds. _Armour off !_ I thought, and left it in an untidy heap at the foot of the tower, and started up in just my sweaty rust-stained doublet and hose. ( Yes, my dear readers, I _did_ look for the door first, but it was bloody massive and the massive iron hinges had rusted shut ). My own stink followed me up, getting worse and worse, until I realised it wasn't actually me.

The bloody dragon was waiting for me at the top of the tower.

"Bugger off !" I yelled at it. It turned one large lazy eye onto me, and smirked.

"Nay, puny mortal, I would fain joust intellects with you, for I am lonely and weary and in need of entertainment," it said. I groaned. _Great._ A Shakespearean bloody dragon. What next ? A soliloquy ? A couple of bloody sonnets ?

"Sir Idiot not amusing enough for you ?" I retorted.

"Sir Who ?"

"Sir Idiot. The twat in armour that came this way yesterday - the one you ate."

"I did not !" the dragon was offended, "what on _earth_ makes you think I eat people ? Honestly ! The _cheek_ of it ! The sheer gall ! The…"

"Alright, keep your tail on !" I snapped, "so you didn't eat him. Where's he gone then, huh ?"

"Search me," it shrugged, with just a trace of a smirk.

"Fine. Let's say you _don't_ actually eat people – what _do_ you do with them ?" I asked, hoping to catch the rotten snake out.

"I use them to line my nest with," snickered the dragon, "I sit on them until they're nice and flat – just like suede. You'd be amazed at how soft they are."

"Yeah ? And what about all their insides that you squash out of them ?"

"That gets fed to my hatchlings."

"So you _do_ know where Sir Idiot went."

"Hmmm, ok. Ya got me. He's squashed and eaten," smirked the dragon. I rolled my eyes, beginning to get tired of the pedantic little slime.

"Tell me – before you squashed him, how far did he get ?" I asked, curious as to how good the knight had actually been, and therefore what _my_ chances were likely to be.

"Not as far as you. You're the first who's actually started up the tower, anyway. I might even let you get a bit farther."

"To the top would be good," I muttered, beginning to swing on up, my arms aching from all the hanging about.

"Nah, you don't want to get all the way up there – the princess's window is only a few more feet up. You're nearly there !"

"I am ?!" I nearly fell off my precarious perch in surprise, "I thought she'd be at the top ! I'm barely halfway !"

"Yeah, well, she got tired of all those steps. You know how it is – your bedchamber's up _there_, the dining hall's down _there_, it gets a bit much after a while. Anyway, who told you she was at the top ? Silly place to be, if you ask me."

"I didn't, but since you've decided to butt in," I snarled through clenched teeth as I swung even farther up the tower, "no-one told me. I assumed. It's always the way in faery tales – the princess is at the top, there's a bloody dragon in the bloody way, you have to hack your way through 50 miles of bloody roses – now do you mind, I've got a mission to complete !"

"Oooooh !" hissed the dragon sarcastically, "_do_ excuse me ! I _am_ sorry, sir Prince, I had no intention of getting in your way, I wouldn't want to be a _hindrance_ now would I ?!"

"Shut up."

"You're very rude for a prince."

"Met many princes have you ?"

"A few. There was this one lovely young man – I've probably still got his hide somewhere, he turned out so lovely and soft after only an hour or so of being sat upon."

"Look, if we're going to spend all day bantering, I think we should introduce ourselves," I said, wondering precisely when the annoying reptile was going to pounce, and whether I could distract it long enough to get in through that window, which was now only a few more feet up. "I'm Prince Lucien, of the Far Isles."

"Charmed, I'm sure," it said, "but you're not getting my name out of me that easily, Prince Weasel !"

"What ?!" I exclaimed, "Are you suggesting I only want your name so I can use it against you ? Of all the insults ! Sheesh !"

Of course, everyone knows that if you have a dragon's true name, you can control it. I briefly nurtured fantasies of flying back to the Far Isles on the back of a dragon, and then dismissed that idea as far too pompous for the likes of me, a youngest prince. OTT was for Tristan, not me. Anyway, the dragon wasn't falling for it, so it wasn't likely to happen. Still, worth a try. You don't ask – you don't get. Or, as my dear mother was always saying, "shy bairns get nowt."

Just then, my hand felt the window ledge, slimy with moss from the long years of neglect and rain. Typically, there was a glass pane in the frame, nicely strengthened with decorative leading, which meant that punching my way in would be pretty impossible.

"Here, I don't suppose you could whap your tail through this window for me ?" I asked the dragon hopefully. It shook its head.

"It's high time I sat on you," it said. "Nothing personal, you know, it's just I can't let you go succeeding – got a rep to protect."

"I'll make you a deal," I said desperately, "I'll go in, rescue the princess, and _then_ you can sit on me. How's that ? After all, I too have a rep to protect !"

"Not my problem," replied the dragon, examining its claws in a nonchalant fashion. I gave up.

"Fine," I grumbled, "can we get this over with then ? I'm sick of this tower anyway. Someone else can rescue little sleepy madame in there."

"Not so hasty !" complained the dragon, clearly disappointed with my willingness to die, "you should be more sportsmanlike, put up a fight, provide a challenge ! If I wanted to shoot lame rats in a barrel, I wouldn't be sitting around here waiting for handsome princes with swords. I'd go to France."

"Look, I've had a long journey here, and then I had to hack my way through this bloody garden, and _then_ climb halfway to heaven, and now you want me to fight _you _as well? Get lost !"

"Touchy, touchy !" chided the irritating creature, "it's only polite to at least attempt a fight, you know. I can't have it said I bully helpless people, got a…"

"….rep to protect, I know !" I sighed. "It might have escaped your notice, o noble dragon, but my sword's still down there. I couldn't carry it."

"You could have strapped to your back."

"What with ? My pants ?"

"With a leather sword strap !" it sneered.

"Of course ! A leather sword strap !" I slapped my head in mock exasperation. "Why didn't I think of that ! Look, if you want me to fight you, then go and get my bloody sword !"

"Get it yourself."

Now, you might wonder what I was doing, halfway up an ancient stone tower yelling at a dragon, but all the while my fingers had been frantically working at a bit of stone, loose in the window ledge. It was almost free. All I needed was for the dragon to be looking the other way when I smashed the window with it. It was being awkward, of course, as only the great wyrms know how to be, but one more insult and it would go flying for that bloody sword……

"Probably the reason you won't go fetch is because you're too bloody clumsy," I chuckled. Dragons hate being laughed at. I planned to do as much laughing as possible if it saved my hide. "You'd look hilarious swooping for such a little item – it's probably about the size of a needle for you, after all, and there's all those roses in the way too. You're right, I'll have to do it myself if I want it, after all, I'm the more agile of us two."

"You damn well are not !" it hissed, furious, "I'll have you know I am wonderfully graceful and delicate in the air !"

"Well I will have to take your doubtless impeccably honourable word at it, won't I, since you refuse to go !" I laughed. "I can see it now – you swooping down like a hawk on a rabbit, missing, clumsily rolling like a top-heavy galleon in a storm – hahahaha, priceless !" tears of laughter rolled down my face. Without warning, the silly creature launched itself from its perch and swooped – and I smashed the window and leapt in, my heart in my throat as I knew I had mere seconds before the dragon realised it had been duped and flew back, howling for my blood. The window was far too small for it to get through, but it would wait for me outside, and I needed to be prepared.

I looked around the chamber, and wrinkled my nose. Evidently, the enchantment hadn't found it necessary to preserve the room's contents, just the princess. There she was, fast asleep on a mouldering bed, with mouldering, mildewed drapes that flung spores into the air when I moved them aside. I sneezed.

"I know you're in there !" the dragon roared, and I turned back to the window where a large red eye was pressed into the opening. I grinned.

"Let me guess – that's because you can see me, right ?"

"Kiss the princess, wake her up, and then get out here and face me !"

"Well give me a minute – hang on, _what_ did you say ? _Kiss_ the princess ?!"

"Of course," said the dragon, "what did you think you had to do ?"

"_I _don't know – set her alarm off ??"

"You kiss her ! Now !"

Grumbling, I turned to the bed. To my surprise, my breath caught in my throat as I looked down upon the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her golden hair fanned out about her on the pillows, and her lashes lay long and fair on her cheeks. Her lips were rosy and full, ripe for kissing, I had to admit, though it seemed churlish to kiss a woman before she was even awake, let alone formally introduced.

"What's her name ?" I asked.

"Princess Liliana, probably."

"_Probably_ ? Is it or isn't it ?"

"Or Ceciliana….I forget. Memory's not what it was."

"As long as it isn't Gertrude or Helga, I don't care," I decided, "so, I have to kiss her. Where ?"

"Right here will do," said the helpful creature. I snorted.

"I meant, where on _her_ ? Forehead ? Lips ? Hands ?"

"Try whatever you want until it works, o noble, intelligent prince."

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, you obnoxious wyrm," I remarked sourly.

"Get on with it !" it roared. I sighed, and bent and kissed the princess on the lips. She woke, predictably, and equally predictably landed one right on my left ear, making my head ring.

"You oaf !" she screamed at me, and then, "RAPE ! RAPE ! Help !"

"Oh shut up, you silly cow !" I snarled, and wrestled her away from the door which she was trying to pry open. She caught sight of the dragon then, and started screaming the roof off. I, the noble, chivalrous prince, smacked her to shut her up, which she did, gulping back tears of fright and staring at me with wide blue eyes.

"It might interest you to know that I have just broken the enchantment laid over you," I snapped at her, mortally offended by her ingratitude. "I had to hack my way through miles of bloody roses to get here, and contend with that annoying wyrm out there, _and _climb up a crumbling bloody tower, just for you, and all I get for my trouble is a smack ? You're _unbelievable_ !"

"I didn't ask you to," she muttered sullenly. I threw my hands up in despair, and turned to the dragon. It wasn't there. Instead, a tall and rather striking woman stood there, smirking. I had a nasty feeling I recognised that look.

"Yep !" she said, "I'm the dragon ! Well, actually, this is what I am, I just turned into a dragon to deter the would-be rescuers. It had to be someone worthy who got through, you see. Couldn't have any old Tom, Dick or Harry waltzing up here and kissing my princess."

"I can't think how the bloody hell _I_ made the grade," I scowled.

"You use your brain, not your sword," she said with a shrug.

The princess rolled her eyes. "He's still an oaf. I can't believe you let him win !"

"He's the best you're ever going to do, missy, and your experience of men in general hardly qualifies you to pass judgement on one of _my_ choosing. Now. The rest of the castle will be waking up – haven't you got anything more suitable to wear, Lucien ?"

"I left my suitcase and my valet at the bottom of the tower," I snarked. "Anyway, before I let you two tart me up like a doll, there's one thing I want to know – why the enchantment in the first place ?"

"Oh, it was Aunt Esme, I think, wasn't it, dear ? She didn't get invited to the christening but she came anyway…"

"Yes, and then she was offended and the gift she had for me was the curse," said the princess, taking over from the enchantress. "On my 16th birthday, I would prick my finger and fall asleep for 100 years, until a prince would come along and kiss me awake."

"Charming," I said, "and that prince is me. Must be your lucky day !"

"Don't sulk," said the enchantress, "she's just cranky after waking up after 100 years. I bet you're not much of a morning person either. Anyway. Let's go meet your future father in law, the King."

The wedding that took place a couple of weeks later was one of the most spectacular ever seen in that land. Can't say I enjoyed it much, I don't appreciate being smothered in blue velvet and cloth-of-gold, and as I had always harboured dreams of falling in love before I married, and I barely knew the princess who in any case had been in a constant strop over the whole thing, I marched up the aisle to my impending doom with an air of just that – doom.

I have to admit that she looked stunning. Layer upon layer of frothy white silk draped her slender form, and it was lavishly embroidered with gold and turquoise threads in a flowing scrollwork design that was echoed on my own outfit. She didn't throw a single strop, to my intense relief, and the wedding went off without a hitch.

I don't think I'll mention the wedding night. Suffice it to say, I woke a happy man, and nine months later our first son was born. He shows every sign of being as brilliant as his father, if I do say so myself. And in the not too distant future, another child will bless our lives.

Oh – you might be amused to know that we made the trip back to the Far Isles for our honeymoon, on the back of a dragon, courtesy of course of Aunt Matilda, the enchantress.

You should have seen Tristan's face !

THE END


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